


The Embers of that Time

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On exploring Barharra, Arthur and Teeny discover a chest of keepsakes belonging to their father. Little do they know, each item has a story to tell from the extraordinary life of a young Lord and his half-brother, from the early days to the foundation of an empire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Discoveries

**Prologue: Discoveries.**

“Teeny?” The young mage looked up to see her brother standing in the doorway. He had such a serious expression on his face that she knew he demanded her attention with utmost urgency. Excusing herself, she rose, hastening over to the doorway to see what the matter could be. She had been so sure Arthur was to spend the afternoon with his friends that she had taken the liberty of doing the same. Her brother never looked this grave. Something important was evidently afoot though she was unsure why he was inviting her to be part of it.

“What is it Brother?” she asked as he led her away from the doorway out of hearing distance of her companions.

“I have found something,” Arthur replied with a great weight behind his words, “Well, I didn’t find it alone. Princess Julia came to me at breakfast and took me to a room she thought I would quite like. She had no recollection of why I might like it, but she told me something important had once lain there. Something I should know of.”

“I thought her Highness had all her memories once more?” Teeny looked about at the finery of the castle as they walked. Barharra made Castle Freege look like a commoner’s dwelling. Such opulence was frankly astounding. Her own room made her feel like a princess, what could possibly be in this new room that could rival all this? Also why had Princess Julia chosen to show it to Arthur in particular?

“I think she had some very early memories come to light,” was Arthur’s reply, “Indistinct ones that seem like dreams . She was so sure yet confused at the same time. It’s… just like how I remember Mother.”

“I see.”

So this room was something personal. By her recommendations it was something that both affected Princess Julia and most likely concerned her and Arthur as well. There was only one definite connection between them that Teeny could think of. This room had to have something to do with their parents, or more specifically, House Velthomer.

“Here it is.”

They stopped at the furthest end of a long winding corridor. Up until then they had merely been flanked by painted walls, studded with portraits. Now they faced two doors, one directly before them and the other to their right. The door ahead was ajar and Teeny could glimpse a fine desk placed before a large arched window. It was a bookshelf-lined study full of the shining brass knobs and handles of sporadically placed drawers and cupboards. It was not the Emperor’s study. They had seen that. Levin had taken to rifling through it as if looking for something important he had not yet found on his first three searches. Teeny drew close and saw a large portrait had been hung on a shelf-less stretch of wall. It was a beautiful woman with silvery-purple hair much like Princess Julia’s. She had a red haired baby in her lap. The child was wrapped in a fine blue and gold cloth and appeared to be sleeping.

“It’s this room,” Arthur corrected her as she went to step inside. She turned and saw he was holding the door on the left open for her. Regretfully she turned away from the beautiful portrait and entered the much darker room she had been invited to. It would be a completely normal guest bedroom if not for three glaring additions. It had the same level of opulence that their own temporary quarters held, however there certainly were no bars put across their windows. The window was clearly able to be opened. Arthur went and did exactly so as she took in the room. However the large piece of wood slotted so neatly across the window frame was almost sinister in its plainness amidst the finery.

Then there were the bowls and cloths. Beside the four poster was a low table, laden with what Teeny could only label medical equipment. A set of bowls lay on the floor beside the bed, covered in a thick layer of dust. A mortar and pestle sat on the table beside a small heap of canvas pouches and strips of cloth. Her eye was soon drawn however to the chest under the window. It was beautiful and undoubtedly worth a king’s ransom, yet it seemed incredibly out of place. As if it didn’t belong to the same kind of richness as its surroundings. For one, it was silver and the study next door was a confection of oak, gold and brass. Teeny abandoned the table and went to her brother’s side. He too seemed to be mesmerised by the silver engravings that covered every side of the box. The engravings depicted a woodland scene, with deer and rabbits tip-toeing through sprawling roots and spotted mushrooms as the tree canopy took over the lid, studded with little birds taking wing. Teeny knelt down and wiped the lid a little with her handkerchief. The silver shone brilliantly, almost blinding them as the light from the window now sparkled upon the walls.

“You’ll want to see what’s inside,” Arthur said, an edge of anticipation in his tone. With that he lifted the lid, the chest giving a loud groaning creak in protest. With the fineness of the case, Teeny half expected the chest to be filled with fabulous treasures, jewels and gold. However when the lid had been dropped open on a brass catch, all she found was a random jumble of books, toys and trinkets. Arthur picked up the topmost book which was the least dusty of the collection. He had evidently seen it before.

“Look at this.” Teeny took it off her brother and inspected the cover. It was a fine leather bound tome with gilt pages. The title had faded a little yet still clearly read “ _The Tale of the Twelve Crusaders”_. Upon opening it however she realised this was no history book. It was an illustrated book for children. On the first page she was greeted by a picture of the beautiful wheel often used to represent the crusader lineage. She gently picked through the aging pages and saw for every page of text, another beautiful piece of artwork mirrored what had been written. It was truly lovely and must have cost gods knows how much gold to make.

“Look at the inside of the front cover,” Arthur prompted. She did so.

**Dear Azel,**

**For an eager scholar on his sixth birthday.**

**Your loving brother,**

**Alvis.**

“Father!” The room suddenly took on an entirely new light. The box of jumbled possessions, the bar on the window, the table full of things to deal with the sick... This wasn’t a guest room at all.

“This is the room the Emperor kept Father in until he died!” Teeny exclaimed.

“I think so,” Arthur replied. No wondered he had been so serious, no wonder his voice had been so grave. Their father had died in this room. He had been locked away so he could never have found them and their mother. All those desperate whispers… Teeny shivered. Mother had spoken to Father sometimes, in her grief. She had told Teeny what a scholarly man he was, eager too, like the dedication in the book. Good-hearted and kind though shy and easily teased, she had said. Teeny looked about at the room and its decadence seemed nothing but cold and horrible.

“Shall we?” Arthur gestured towards the box. He evidently had waited for her so they could inspect the contents together. She nodded and sat on the floor by the chest. He did the same and they began to remove the chest’s contents, sorting them into little heaps of memories.

There were many toys. All seemed well loved and cherished to the point their fabric frayed and their parts splintered. A doll painted to resemble a knight in shining armour was discovered, wrapped in parchment which turned out to be several childish paintings of people and trees. Two small stuffed bears, one light brown and the other dark had clearly been re-mended often, for the stitches holding their ragged ears in place were obvious and the lighter one missed a beady eye. A tiny painted horse attached to a cart with wheels splintered in Arthur’s hands as he removed it. One of the cart’s wheels dropped forlornly to the floor. Arthur gathered the pieces together. Teeny wondered whether he would fix them or leave them in such a state.

Books far outnumbered the toys. The book telling of the crusaders was by far the finest but each new book turned out to be as magnificent as the next, each with some sort of dedication, text replacing the pictures as their father got older. Each fine tome was a gift from the elder brother to the younger, so it seemed was the fine quill and engraved ink well that they discovered next. The ink well had the name ‘Velthomer’ carved onto its side in a fancy lettering not unlike that of the Emperor’s handwriting. There was a cluster of parchment. Childish paintings and drawings, the backs of which had been written on in an increasing eloquent hand, _‘To Alvis’_ became _‘To Lord Brother_ ’ but they all clearly had the same artist and the same recipient. With said pictures came odd mementos. There was a milk-white crystal pendant, a small bound collection of pressed flowers, even a small knife in a leather sheath. Whilst Teeny inspected these, Arthur’s attention had been drawn to two even larger pieces of parchment which he soon showed to his sister.

“What do you make of these?” The first was a Velthomer family tree. The names had been written in an elegant swirling hand they already knew to be the Emperor’s. However he must have written it long before the ideas of an empire had even started to form. The lines of the tree and a few pictures of rings had been painted on by a very clumsy, most definitely childish, hand. The corners of the parchment were littered with childish drawings of people and what appeared to be cakes. A few of the drawings were a lot better quality. A small bird sat in the bottom left corner, inked in and then coloured sloppily. By the bird was written in an unfamiliar hand. _BY ALVIS AND AZEL_. The letters were clumsy and the d was backwards.

“They made this together,” Her tone had softened, “When Father was only little.”

“I don’t think Father collected any of these things,” Arthur said, “I think it was Emperor Alvis, he must have had items from Castle Velthomer brought over once he had taken residence here. He…seems to have been a very good brother, even if he was an awful person.”

“He…he kept his little brother comfortable, had him seen to when he was ill,” Teeny reasoned, looking once more at the bed, “And I suppose if he kept all these things… He loved Father right? Father didn’t die so horribly?”

“I’d prefer to think so,” Arthur confessed, “Look, they added us to the tree later.” Teeny looked down. In a new hand that could only be their father’s, three names had been added. To Alvis’ name he had drawn a line and added Diadora, and their twins. From their father name, the Emperor’s handwriting appeared. He had added Tiltyu, Teeny and Arthur. It was perhaps an acknowledgement of each other’s families. Or perhaps their Father was too ill to finish his amendments. Arthur put the family tree to one side. Teeny gasped. There, before them, was an inked sketch of two young children. The elder was holding the younger’s hand, most likely in an effort to keep him still for the artist. The effect however was sweet and innocent.

“Princess Julia might like to see this,” Arthur commented. Teeny nodded. Their father couldn’t be any more than five or six years old. He was a fluffy haired boy with a timid look in his eyes. He seemed to want to disappear behind his half brother who even then seemed to prefer long hair and a frown.

“They’re adorable,” Teeny tried to take the picture from her brother to get a closer look. As she did so, the small pile of toys beside her collapsed. There was a light crunch and the cart wheel Arthur had broken off rolled away beneath the bed. She sighed and went to retrieve it as Arthur reconstructed the pile. Like all beds, the underside was dusty. Unlike most beds, there was an envelope on the carpet beneath it. Teeny found the cart wheel and took it and said envelope back out with her. It too was incredibly dusty but she showed it to her brother to see if he thought they should open it. The envelope was unaddressed and bore no signs of being opened before. There was definitely something inside it however, something extraordinarily heavy. Teeny’s curiosity got the better of her and she ripped open the envelope. It contained a brass key. The connection came to both siblings at once.

“The study,” they said in unison, before hastening out of the door, leaving the little piles of forgotten memories behind.


	2. Chapter One - Toys

Chapter One: Toys

When a child has so much power, it is a terrible idea to accuse them of having a temper tantrum. Still the old butler was acting as if he would like nothing more than to accuse his liege of such an offence and more as he tried to reason with him.

“My Lord! Those were gifts given to you by your esteemed late father, your mother and the Lords of Grandbell had them crafted and gifted especially after the news of your birth!”

“That matters not,” the seven year old said sharply, “I do not care who or where they came from. I will not listen to fools who think my father was a good man!”

The butler spluttered, murmuring to the surrounding maids that this child was wearing away his remaining years.  
“But to give your splendid toys to that bastard ch…!” 

“Get out of my sight.” It was said with such certainty and venom that the butler was rendered speechless and quite taken aback. Such a tone could surely never have come a child! He had never been spoken up to like that, and the little Lord had been such a pleasant child before these horrid happenings that he would never expect it of him. Admittedly he had spent most of his time with his mother then. The men of the house had barely seen him.

“Pardon my Lord?” the butler wheezed.

“Your services are no longer wanted. Get out of my sight.” Alvis crossed his arms and looked coldly up at the aging servant, “You praise such an immoral man as my father yet you damn an innocent baby. I do not want such a horrid person in my house. Goodbye. The guards will take you out.” With that two guards surged forwards and the young Lord turned on his heels to stride back into what had once been his Father’s study.

“I want all my toys put in the bedroom closest to this study. I want the room to made usable by a little child. Toys for babies can be put in the nursery. The rest will be put in the new room. If you have not learnt this yet, I am a Lord now. I do not need toys.” 

With that the maids and servant around him dispersed hurriedly to go and fulfil his commands. Alvis was left alone to a vast study of watchful portraits and a pile of paper half his height sittinh on the grand oak desk. He had to use a footstool to clamber up onto the matching chair that stood behind the desk. He refused to ask for a smaller chair or table. He had learnt that a Lord wasn’t a Lord without his intimidating surroundings. Instead of changing said surroundings a footstool and an extra cushion to sit on would do him fine. Adjusting said cushion, he got to work on his mountain of paperwork. It was lucky, he thought, that unlike other children, a Velthomer would be given tutoring from the age of two. He didn’t know why such a tradition existed but it did him well due to the fact his reading was far superior to those his age and he could cope with the political nonsense written down. 

He had learnt that despite all the flowery language on these pages that most requests were in fact very simple. However instead of just saying ‘no’ you had to take up a side of parchment saying it in the most floral way possible. It was basically a game. As soon as you knew what everyone else wanted and how much they could do, then you could just play them like chess pieces. For instance, the Prime Minster wanted to improve the fortifications on his castle however the building material he wants to use is found on the borders of Velthomer. Alvis knew the prime minister would happily send men to just take the rocks without his permission however if Alvis charged him a bit of money and got local villagers, who would be paid by the prime minister to transport the rocks, to get them to him. Then those villagers with jobs would supported and like him, the dukedom would have some more money to spend on the many things it needed, and also Prime Minister Reptor would get his rocks. 

Really, these dukes just needed to read more children’s books, Alvis thought as he practiced his signature. Children’s books always ended with everyone getting what is best for them in a reasonable compromise. The dukes could really do with reading them for inspiration. In a way, Alvis reasoned, politics was really a game. You could play with all the dukes accordingly. Thinking about it, weren’t they his new toys? He could play with them just like the bears and dolls.

\----------

The young Lord had developed something of a routine. Providing there were no guests, he would work alone in the mornings and conduct any meetings in the afternoons. The evening however, was not a time to work. It was family time. One day meals would also be family time however his little brother was not eating what he would deem normal food yet. When he did, then joint meal times would become an option. Regardless, once he had eaten, Alvis left his guards outside the nursery and entered. There it seemed Azel would always have finished a meal of his own for the maid always departed when he arrived.

“Azel?” he called. The nanny, a tall yet large woman who had once been his own caretaker, smiled at him and gestured to the large pile of soft toys on the floor.  
“He’s quite beside himself with all the toys he’s just been given my Lord,” she said, sounding amused. She lifted a toy horse from the mound.

“What do we say to our wonderful Lord Brother Azel?” she prompted. There was a moment of silence.

“Tank-oo Al,” came from the pile. Alvis let out a small gasp. His baby brother was attempting to say his name! He’d certainly never done that before.

“You’re welcome Azel.” He sat down next to pile of toys and was able to see his brother in the pile. Pulling away a few of the toys he was able to encourage him to crawl out.

“Al,” Azel said softly. He was a very quiet child. Alvis asked for weekly reports from the nanny as to how his little brother was faring. He wanted to know things like how much he was talking, whether he’d had any mishaps and accidents, what was he showing an enthusiasm for. Azel was only ten months old but Alvis was sure he did understand something of what he was saying. Besides, whether Azel was aware or not that didn’t stop him any concern felt for him. So far Alvis had learnt that his brother hardly ever cried or made a fuss. He never seemed particularly demanding and he was happy with whatever he was given. He rarely made any noise, the exception being when his brother was playing with him. This was why Alvis believed Azel did recognise who he was and understood what he said.

“Hello Azel,” Alvis replied, he refused to coo like the adults did. He found it very annoying and no doubt his brother would too, “You’ve got lots of new toys to play with and we can play with them together.”

“Al!” 

Alvis took the more enthusiastic attempt at his name as a sign his brother agreed with him. He picked a book from the nearby shelf and collected a small assortment of soft toys. They could act a story. His mother used to entertain him like this when he was small, he remembered her doing it until he was old enough to enact it all himself. He opened the book. He remembered all the stories in there. They should be eazy to act out.

“Let’s act out a story,” he told his little brother who was simply watching him with wide eyes. He offered him a handful of toys.

“Which one do you like best? It can be the hero,” he waited a moment before prompting, “Choose one. Which one? Which one do you like?” Azel was probably confused. Alvis offered two teddy bears to him. Azel stared at him before pointing to one. It was handed to him and Alvis returned to the book ready to begin the story.

“Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess,” He looked up to see his brother was chewing on the teddy bear’s ear.

“Don’t do that!” he cried, he snatched the bear away before any more damage could be done to it. However, as soon as the toy had left his brother’s arms the real damage had been done. Azel began to sniffle, he didn’t seem like he was going to cry but those miserable sniffles were getting louder and those big green eyes were even wider…

“You can have it,” Alvis relented, “But it’s for holding not eating. No eating, just holding.” He handed over the bear and Azel hugged it tight, rocking back and forth in his enthusiasm to hold it. Alvis smiled and chose a different bear to be the princess of their story. The book did have pictures Azel could probably follow but it was more fun to act it out now so Azel could do it himself later like Alvis did before he became an important Lord who didn’t play with toys. The second bear was the princess and as it seemed Azel would never let go of the first so a doll painted as if it were a knight became the hero of the story. A wooden puppet became the evil sorcerer and Alvis asked the nanny to take a book end down from the one of the shelves so they could use the painted dragon on the piece of wood as their story’s dragon.

Azel stayed very quiet and chewed relentlessly of the bear’s ear whilst Alvis was telling him the tale. Alvis gave up telling him off in favour of reading the story which was one of his favourites. Azel appeared to be following Alvis’ finger as he trailed it across the page to show him what he was saying. All was calm and predicable until Alvis received a shock as they came to the big battle in the tale.

“And the hero faced the sorcerer’s mighty dragon,” he read, “The dragon gave an almighty roar and…”

“Wor.” Alvis stared at his little brother. Had he just tried to copy the word roar? Did he like the sound and decide to repeat it?

“Yes, that’s the sound the dragon makes,” he said encouragingly, “Shall we help the hero defeat the dragon. Why don’t you push the dragon over so it goes crash?” 

He moved the book end over to his brother. Azel stared at it and then the book. He could make this fun if he tried

“We’ve got to defeat the dragon,” Alvis reminded him, “Go on push it over!” He pushed the bookend slightly so it wobbled. Azel merely watched.

“Push it,” Alvis prompted. Azel continued to stare and do nothing so Alvis gave in. He pushed it over with an enthusiastic

“Crash!” 

Azel giggled quietly and Alvis smiled. Well one day Azel could do it himself. He had liked this book a lot and read it many times. He was sure his brother would hear the story again some day. He told his brother of how the hero finally defeated said dragon and went to free the princess from the sorcerer and the sorcerer’s curse. By the end of the book, Azel had opened up a little. It was common place for him to take a while to do so. Alvis wasn’t sure why his brother was so quiet but he guessed it was a trait to be encouraged. If he was too noisy he could get in the way of something important. When they had finished the book and they moved to playing freely with the toys, Azel smiled and giggled throughout. Alvis decided to try and teach him his whole name. He started by saying it very slowly and clearly.

“Al-vis.”

“Al,” Azel said in reply.

“No, Al-vis. Al…vis…”

“Al...bi,” Azel managed, “Albi. Albi!” He seemed to think it a fun game for he giggled again.

“Almost, it’s ‘vis’,” Alvis corrected, “Vi-s,”

“Vees,” Azel looked rather puzzled before repetting, “Veeees,” It was close enough.

“Al-vis.”

“Alvees!” 

“Well done!” He was almost there. It was significant enough progress for one evening. Alvis gave his brother a hug as Azel delighted in the new word he could make and repeated it again and again in his brother’s ear.

“Well done Young Master,” the nanny, who had undoubtedly been there all the time, suddenly made her presence known, “But I’m afraid it’s time to say good night to your lovely Lord Brother now. You’ll see him tomorrow, it’s bedtime now.” Azel seemed to have forgotten about her in the excitement of his brother’s company. As soon as he saw her he stopped laughing and smiling and returned to his very quiet state. Perhaps he was scared of adults. Alvis would have to find out.

“Say good night Azel,” prompted the nanny, lifting him off the floor to take him to the cot in the corner, “Say good night to your Lord Brother. Say Good Night Alvis.”

“Nigh Alvees.” He was still clutching the chewed teddy bear to him. Alvis had the feeling that would remain his favourite, at least for a while.

“Good night Azel,” he replied with a wave. As he did every night he added the phrase his mother always used to say to him when he was taken to bed.  
“I love you, everything is just fine.”

The nanny smiled sadly at the echo. Alvis knew why she did that now. At least when he said good night to his brother it wasn’t so much of a lie as it had been back then.


	3. Chapter Two - Make-Believe

**Chapter Two – Make-believe.**

A few months after Alvis’ eighth birthday, he was summoned before the King and therefore had to leave his household for Barharra. His birthday had been a small yet extravagant affair. He had received gifts from every noble house in Grandbell. They all seemed eager to gain his favour by spoiling him with a deluge of toys, books and sweet galore. Of course Alvis was not so easily won over but he appreciated his new fortune all the same. He had sorted through the immense pile as his little brother had chewed the table-cloth beside him. He put the toys to one side for when Azel would be old enough to play with them and sorted through the books for those he could read to his brother and those that were too advanced for him at the moment. The sweets however he kept for himself. Long hours locked away in that study could be spent quite pleasantly if he gave himself treats every now and again. From his brother he had received a painting, a jumble of colour that the nanny managed to guide him through.

“What’s this here Azel?” she had pointed to something that was a red and brown blur.

“Alvees,” was the quiet reply.

“What’s this here?” She gestured to a much larger confection of green and orange.”

“Wor,” said Azel.

“It’s a dragon,” the nanny filled in, “You’ve painted your brother fighting a dragon haven’t you?”

“ ‘Es!” Azel said a little more enthusiastically.

Alvis had put the painting up in his study. By up, he meant he had ordered it to be stuck over a portrait over his father so he didn’t have to look at it anymore but wouldn’t face protests in taking it down. He glanced at it occasionally. His little brother could possibly be better than he was at painting at that age. At least he got his colours correct, though that could have been at the nanny’s insistence. Alvis had once found a bundle of his old pictures in his mother’s bedside cabinet. Great patches of blue and purple made little sense of what they were supposed to be. Then again, he didn’t know if Azel really knew it was a dragon but they had read that story so many times it was likely he did.

As he packed for his outing he reflected on how he preferred such a painting over all that gilded flattery. The clothing however was useful. Lords weren’t Lords without their fancy accompaniments and clothing was such a case in point. He might as well go to Barharra looking the part even if he was going to be patronised as soon as he got there. He absent-mindedly scratched the back of hand as he asked one of the guards to take his luggage down to the carriage which awaited him. He wished that silly little oval would stop burning! It felt like nothing he had come across before. He hadn’t burned himself. He hadn’t even cut or grazed his hand recently. The mark had appeared about a month ago and was yet to leave. Did it have to burn so badly? It certainly was no ordinary bang or scrape. Of course there was a glaring answer in his thoughts however it was unwise to jump to conclusions. The real confirmation was to look at his father’s hand in that portrait. How unfortunate it was that he had put a picture over it! Any similarity he had with his father couldn’t possibly be noticed if there was a picture over his portrait! He smiled as he fastened his cape and went to meet the carriage.

He had left a note on his desk for his new butler however. He needed a magic tutor to ready for him as soon as he returned. The mere acknowledgement that such power had manifested in him was probably enough to shock the old dukes a little, however he didn’t want to seem like just a picture. He needed the ability too. The duties were piling up. He had to be a Lord and the most powerful mage in Grandbell all whilst being the best brother possible. It was become a bit of a list. Well challenging games were the best ones.  
\------

The stay went as expected. So many meetings where they kept forgetting that he needed a cushion to sit at the table properly! It was rather disgraceful. He had gone with expectations of what would occur. His plan had been to stay quiet most of the time but when push came to shove he would surprise everyone by speaking his mind in the most abrupt way possible. Shock was the best piece to play in the game. He had learnt all he could. It was entirely up to him to shake the common assumption that he was small, scared and stupid. It was his job to knock that opinion into the water but at the right moments. It was a game after all, just a very big one at the end of the day.

Alvis had mixed feelings about the new title they had mockingly given him as they tried to appear intimidating. ‘The Duke of Children’, he hoped it wouldn’t stay. It was true, he was obviously a child, but the land he spoke for was not a land of children. So it was wrong. Alvis didn’t want a wrong title. Also what if it stayed when he was an adult? It wouldn’t give him a very reputation. Adults tended to think children should be cute and silent, seen and not heard except when required. He did not want that sort of recognition at court. Prime Minister Reptor had already stated he thought of Alvis as a _‘little terror who neglected to remember his place in the world’._ Alvis could only bear so much of his ramblings about how children should respect their elders before interrupting, standing on his seat to gain a little intimidating height.

“May I inquire as to what the honourable Prime Minster considers to be _my place_? I must be mistaken then if I thought the Duke of Velthomer and _Fala’s Heir_ had some degree of respect in Grandbell?”

He had used the tone he knew adults never expected as he pulled his fringe from his eyes, the oval on his hand very obvious. The silence was finally broken by the King who evidently found the whole rebuke very amusing. He had chuckled and allowed Alvis continue what he had been saying before Reptor had decided to interrupt himself. For now Alvis knew his authority was at the mercy of the King however when he was an adult that would all change. For now he just had to play along with their make-believe delusions of superiority and play with them like puppets.

He considered this as he arrived back home just in time for breakfast. The stay had been a fortnight long and the evenings long and tiring without the company of his dear brother. He had decided he didn’t like being at court. The only enjoyable moments were when he managed to get them all to agree with him without them even realising they was doing it. Spending time with his little brother was much more preferable. When he was older he’d have to find a balance between the two occupations though perhaps Azel could attend with him.

He asked for his breakfast to be taken to his study and went there himself, ready to face whatever paperwork had been stored there in his absence. He wasn’t to be disappointed. Four very neat stacks lay waiting for him, already positioned with quill and ink ready for an undoubtedly long day of catching up. Alvis climbed up and got to work at once, decided he should get at least half a pile done whilst the anticipation of his breakfast gave him something to look forward to.

“Alvees! Alvees!” He could recognise that cry anywhere. Alvis moved the papers aside and looked down. There, standing on his own two feet before the door was his little brother. He was holding onto the door frame but with a little push suddenly started toddling along the floor. He could walk! Alvis left his chair at once and went to join him. He took hold of one of Azel’s hands so he could keep his balance a little better.

“Did you walk all the way in here?” he asked, leading Azel back to the desk chair. It seemed an awfully long way to go for someone who had only just stopped crawling. When had he actually started? Alvis picked Azel up and put him on the footstool. It was then the nanny made herself known.

“He’s been calling for you for the last fortnight my Lord. One evening he just got up and tottered all the way to the door of the nursery. I think he’s been practicing whilst I’m not looking.”

“How old is he now?” Alvis asked her as he held his brother’s hands and Azel giggled in delight. The nanny must have carried him through most the castle and then let him come walking in to give Alvis a surprise.

“He must be just over two years old, my lord.”

“Two years? When was his birthday?” It seemed extraordinary that no one had told him when his brother’s birthday was. He’d gone past it already and Alvis knew he certainly hadn’t been around to celebrate it. It wasn’t fair that he’d had a birthday and Azel hadn’t. He chose an unused quill on the desk and reached for it on his tip-toes. Once he had his prize, he amused his brother as the nanny seemed to mull his question over.

“My apologies my Lord,” she said, sounding a little distressed, “I wasn’t allowed near Young Master Azel until after his poor dear mother…” her voice tailed off but Alvis understood. She didn’t know what day Azel was born on so therefore she hadn’t celebrated his birthday.

“We shall just have to make him a birthday. He’ll believe it, won’t you Azel?” He ticked his brother’s nose with the feather. Azel merely giggled and made a grab for the fluffy thing that had just sailed past his face.

“When do you suggest my Lord?”

“I’ll think about it,” Alvis promised, “I will ask others in the house who may have had some connection with Azel’s mother.”

“Well, we’ll be out of your hair then my Lord,” said the nanny, clearly meaning to depart. Azel stopped giggling as she approached and Alvis noticed his gaze became more worried and scared the closer she got.

“He can stay in here today,” Alvis quickly intervened, “He won’t be a nuisance. Bring some of his things in here and he can keep me company as I work. I’ve been away for quite some time and he may believe I’m leaving again. If he’s good he can come in here more often.”

“Of course my Lord,”

As soon as she was out of the room, Alvis turned to his brother. He was definitely scared. All his glee at chasing the feather had gone and he had curled his little hands in the smock he was wearing as if to hide them from view. His wide eyes had followed the nanny as she had left the room and were now on the carpet. Alvis didn’t understand why he was so nervous. He’d left Azel with the nanny every single day since…since he had decided that Azel was most definitely his brother. If something was happening to make Azel scared, surely he should’ve known by now? Azel had always been quiet around everyone but him so…

“Why are you so scared of Nanny, Azel?” he asked gently. Azel immediately stared at him. If Alvis knelt down they could almost looking at each other directly, eye to eye. He did so. There was still a bit of a height difference. Azel had lots of growing to do after all.

“Why are you scared?” he asked again, “Is something scary?”

“Bistar,” Azel replied. Even his voice was more timid than usual. Something was certainly the matter. However what he had said made no sense.

“Pardon?”

“Bistar,” Azel said again, his bottom lip trembling, “Bistar. Garmen bistar.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

“Alvees!” Azel began to cry and Alvis immediately took him into his arms. Azel never cried in front of him!

“What did they do to you?” Alvis mumurred, holding his brother close, “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you? Did they say something bad?”

“Bistar,” Azel said again, “Garmen bistar. Ow.”

“Ow?” Alvis repeated, “Did they make you go ow?” Who are Garmen bistar? What did they do?”

“Ow,” Azel showed his big brother his hands. There was a long white scratch across both his hands, they looked fully healed but Alvis had the distinct impressed that a heal staff had been used to deal with the worst damage. He had picked up a piece of glass when he was about Azel’s age and he had had a white mark like that on his fingers for quite some time.

“What happened?”

“Garmen ingarmen ow,” So garmen could b a someone and a somewhere?

“Garden? Gardeners in the garden?” It made sense. They were men and they were in the gardens, Azel had got confused and combined the two words. Still, he wasn’t any closer to knowing what bistar was or how his brother had got hurt. Whatever it was, he was going to have to talk to both the nanny and the gardeners.

“Did you get hurt outside?” he asked, just to make sure. Hasty accusation that ended up wrongly placed were not going to make him popular, “Out with the trees and flowers?” Azel cried even harder and Alvis took this as a sign of agreement. He rocked his brother gently back and forth, like his mother once did for him when he was woken up by the shouting.

“It’s alright,” he assured as Azel clutched onto his cape, “It’s fine. You are safe with me. I’m going to make sure they will never hurt you again. If you tell me what bistar is I’ll make sure they don’t hurt you too.”

“My Lord, bistar is…” Alvis turned to see the nanny in the doorway. She bore an armful of toys and wore a slightly pained expression on her face.

“What is it?” Alvis demanded.

“Bistar is… Bistar is his attempt at saying…bastard, my Lord,” the nanny was now the frightened one, “It’s what the gardeners’ boys shout at him. We go for trips in the garden once a week and more often than not we are ambushed. They…throw apples and old nails. In my years I can’t fight them off, so we just hurry along. Master Azel picked up one of the nails and hurt himself while you were away.”

“You did nothing to stop these boys? Nothing at all?”

“No my Lord,”

“Then Azel believes you are as bad as them,” he held his brother a little tighter as if to emphasise who Azel really trusted, “He’s scared of you because he thinks you’re letting him get hurt and shouted at.”

“My Lord I…!”

“I am not going to fire you, do not fret.” Alvis’ voice had reached the dangerous tone he used so expertly for dismissing horrid servants, the nanny had full right to be worried, “The same cannot be said for those boys. Guards!” The two guards outside the door entered.

“Assemble yourselves and bring the boys who work in the garden before me at once. Bring them to me cleaned up and intimidated. They should know what’s coming to them.”

The guards nodded, bowed and departed.

From that morning onwards, Azel loved being in his brother’s study. He had clung on tight as Alvis had reassured him that the garden men were coming but he wasn’t to show them he was scared. He was told to make-believe they were dragons, and good boys and heroes never let the dragons know they were scared. Besides, he didn’t need to be scared because his big brother was going to defeat them just like a hero should. Alvis had sat him on the desk when the garden boys arrived and Alvis took his seat in his father’s chair. During the next ten minutes, Alvis shouted like he had never done before. Azel sat through it, brave like he had been told to be, but his eyes never left his brother as the eight year old made the adolescents quake in their boots. That moment, the first of many to come, cemented in his young mind that his big brother was the most wonderful person in the world. A wonderful person who could make all the pain and fear go away with his immense power. He was a hero, a hero who could defeat the dragons, stealing their fire and holding it in his bare hands.

From then on, Azel never wanted to leave that study. He sniffled and wept if banned from the room and so a new routine had to be made especially for his new love. He would spend every Wednesday at his brother’s side after Alvis had had that day's magic lesson. He would get his books and his toys and sit in the corner as his brother talked on and on about what he was doing. Of course Azel understood very little but Alvis preferred the company to the horrid emptiness he had dwelt in before. He didn’t think Azel really understood what he was doing however it was shortly before Azel’s third birthday, which they agreed to be near the beginning of spring, that he was given a shock.

“What is he doing?” Alvis asked the ever-present nanny.

Once again Azel had made a bizarre arrangement in the corner of the study under a side table. He had made a sort of smaller table with three books, one propped up the other two. and before said table was a selection of his favourite toys, except the bear which he chewed, which barely left his side. On the table he had put a big piece of parchment, which he was drawing on with charcoal with one hand but he held a quill with the other and was happily chewing on that and murmuring to himself. He seemed very busy with something but for the life of him, Alvis could not work out what could absorb his attention so.

The nanny seemed to find his confusion amusing.

“He’s pretending to be his big brother my Lord,” she replied, “He’s made himself a little desk and I reckon all those toys of his are politicians and servants just like those you talk to. Occasionally he tells them off just like you do.”

Alvis stared before a smile spread across his face. Azel had been in here so long seeing him work and now he was pretending to do the same? He wanted to be like him that much? Alvis opened one of the desk drawers and found an empty ink well. It was a fancy confection of metal with the name Velthomer engraved across it. He passed it to the nanny.

“To make his little desk more realistic,” he said with something close to joy in his tone. The nanny smiled back and went to give it to Azel. Azel was still rather unnerved around her but took the inkpot and looked up at his brother with a big smile on his face. Alvis laughed and the nine year old and the almost-three year old got back to work.


	4. Chapter Three - Books

Alvis discovered things really didn’t get easier when you were older. Of course he wasn’t yet an adult but he was an adolescent. Surely that meant something? Apparently it did not, but that wasn’t too bad. His duties were more or less the same. Magic had become far easier despite the fact he had argued with and then fired two tutors before sticking with the third. He had fired them because he had decided in addition to the other tutors he had hired fo his brother, it was about time Azel started to learn magic too. Perhaps he couldn’t actually produe fire quite yet but the theory was just as important and would undoubtedly benefit him in the long run. His first two tutors however had not shared his enthusiasm. The first refused to teach the ‘little bastard’ and Alvis discovered the other had hit his brother in a lesson, causing his brother to come running in tears into his study with a great gash across one of his cheeks. The tutor’s excuse was that he was meant to hit the boy on the hand and he had moved at the last moment, however Alvis was not going to accept any pain being inflicted on his brother whatever the intention.

Azel was still very shy and had a great deal of trouble standing up for himself. His tactic for dealing with confrontation was to simply run away and though Alvis had tried to tell him to be brave and show no fear, he hadn’t seemed to bring himself to do so yet. He hated being shouted at. Disorderly servants, villagers who strayed too close to the gardens, even his tutors on occasion, had shouted at him, called him a bastard, a whore’s son and various other horrible terms denoting his filth and unworthiness. Alvis had done his best to ward off or banish said tirades and the nanny had since grown bold and would chase off horrid servants. However Alvis had the feeling these names would stick about his brother for the rest of his life, despite the fact such weight had fallen on truly undeserving shoulders. Azel was small and sweet, possibly the least disagreeable person Alvis knew. He had no choice in being illegitimate. If only those idiots could comprehend such a fact.

Even if Azel was scared to go outside, he had plenty to do indoors. His tutors reported he was a perfect pupil, though a little on the quiet side. His reading passed all expectations and his memory was apparently as keen as Alvis’ had been at that age. Azel loved books. It was hardly surprising, Alvis had read him at least one story a day for years upon end. He could now read his favourite stories all by himself and Alvis often just sat beside his brother as Azel showed him how much he had learnt, or how much he had progressed with a particular book.

Alvis always made sure his brother had plenty of books to read. Activities with reading in were also Azel’s favourite. They had constructed a great big family tree together. Azel had wanted Alvis to do the writing, saying his brother’s words looked better, however he had drawn all the lines and added pictures. Azel did love drawing pictures. Alvis wasn’t quite sure where he was supposed to put them all without ruining the décor of his study. He had filled a draw up and made sure that the most recent ones were up somewhere, be it in the nursery rather than his study. He’d had to take many down otherwise his official image would be somewhat ruined.

Not that Azel himself could ruin his persona. He was quite mature for his age. So, when Azel’s birthday was to clash midway through a session at Barharra, Alvis decided it was about time to take him along. He packed his brother’s presents in a small trunk to bring with them and had the servants make sure to pack plenty of books and toys in his brother’s luggage so he could keep himself amused. He had commissioned a special book just for his brother’s sixth birthday. It was a beautiful illustrated piece about the crusaders. The pictures were something out of a dream with no detail left untouched and the text was just challenging enough to give Azel something fun to do without frustrating him too badly. He had written a dedication on the inside of the front cover to wish his brother a happy birthday. He hoped the book would be something Azel would forever cherish. He would certainly never have seen something quite like it before.

Another new addition Azel would no doubt find joy in was the large collection of new clothes he was about to receive. So far Azel had been wearing hand-me-downs of Alvis’, things he had worn before he had inherited the title of Lord. However he had noticed that all the clothes rather swamped his little brother. He obviously had been quite a bit taller than Azel currently was. He couldn’t go to Barharra in ill-fitting clothes so he had the nanny take all the appropriate measurements and sent instructions to a tailor. Instead of the darker colours he favoured for an air of intimidation, Alvis decided to put his little brother in lighter colours that suited his sweeter nature. He now had a whole wardrobe of pale reds, whites and pinks to choose from. He had already given Azel some of his new clothes. Even he needed to look the part on their arrival. It was commonplace it seemed for the various lords and dukes to bring their families along. Last time he had attended, someone had had the nerve to suggest that Alvis go and play with those his own age instead of intruding upon adult business. In reply Alvis had recited the details of their illicit affairs with an Augustrian smuggling ring with such perfect accuracy that the foolish man’s wife had fainted and he had barred from all meetings onwards.

He rather doubted that Azel would mix well with the other children. He was incredibly shy and was unnerved by unfamiliar adults, let alone children. He had never met another child apart from his brother therefore he had never met another child who acted like a child. There would probably be guards and maids about to supervise the children. Alvis knew his brother had enough common sense to go to an adult if anything went awry, but he couldn’t erase the thoughts of the bullies and beatings that could potentially come to harm his brother. In the carriage ride there he gave his brother a talk about how to interact. He had long dropped the metaphors of heroes and dragons. Politics may be a game but this could be a real-life fortnight of pain for his brother. He needed to be prepared.

“You’re probably going to meet lots of other children when we get there,” he said, “They are probably going to all know each other and each and every one of them will have an important father who I will be in meetings with. Sometimes their mothers will there, sometimes they won’t, but that doesn’t make a difference.”

“Will they be nice?” asked Azel, his gaze flicking between his brother and the window of the carriage. Before his brother had started talking, his gaze had been fixed out of the window. He’d never left the grounds of Castle Velthomer before. This was a whole new world for him.

“Not necessarily,” Alvis replied, “Some of them may be mean, loud and rather horrible. However you’re just going to have to be a big boy and make sure they don’t make you seem weak. Try and make friends with those who seem nice and avoid those who don’t. Remember, you’re a Velthomer. Velthomers are proud and sensible. Use your own digression.”

“What if they hurt me?” 

He didn’t seem to have listened to the second half of what his brother had said. He had focussed instantly on the mention of ‘mean and horrible’. It was good that he had such an ear for potential danger but Alvis would prefer he listen fully.

“If you think they’re going to hurt you, then don’t go near them. If things get bad, then excuse yourself politely and leave. Be brave, we have a reputation to uphold. Understand?”

Azel nodded timidly and went back to staring out the window.

The journey wasn’t a long one. They arrived in time for the welcoming midday meal and were accompanied out of their carriage as their luggage was unloaded and taken to their guest chambers. Alvis took Azel’s hand as they walked through the grand entrance hall. The five year old seemed enraptured. It was indeed a magnificent castle and Alvis allowed Azel to look anywhere and everywhere as they were escorted to the grand hall. The high ceilings and carved pillars rivalled Velthomer in their magnificence and if Azel had his way, Alvis knew he’d be wandering around the room trying to look at everything. To distract him from trying to bend his neck far back enough to see the painted ceiling, Alvis gently reminded him to stand up straighter and not to drag his feet. He had already seen servants and guards stare at the pair of them as they walked. There was the occasional murmur and mutter but one glare from Alvis silenced the gossip at once. As they approached the hall he thought of reminding Azel to be on his best behaviour, however there was no real need, Azel always was. 

Their arrival caused quite a stir. It was clear that many families had attended because was there was a bustle of servants carrying higher chairs and cushions about the table to accommodate for the unexpected gathering of children. However the sight of one child, adolescent, Alvis corrected them in his head, leading another with no sign of an accompanying adult seemed to be quite the spectacle. Alvis chose where to sit very carefully. Some of the assembled peers had children his age and he didn’t want to lower himself to their standing by sitting next to them. He already made a mental note of which Lords and their families would cause trouble about or with Azel so he had to avoid those. Sitting near the King was also not an option otherwise it would look like he constantly needed the backing. Their seating position was ultimately decided by a pink blancmange shaped like a castle which Alvis knew would keep his brother amused for a very long time even if he wasn’t to eat it. What he hadn’t intended however was for Prince Kurth to come and join them merely five minutes after they had sat down. He sat beside Alvis, separating him from the Chalphy family who sat three seats away. Alvis immediately gave a respectful half-bow and gestured for Azel to do the same. Azel merely looked rather confusedly at the new arrival. The prince didn’t seem to mind however.

“No need for such formal standards quite yet. The entire assembly has not yet made their presence known, then the chaos starts.” The prince sighed and looked up and down the table. The presence of food had done little to abate the rather frosty air between the grown men at the table. The ladies and children seemed to be talking quite merrily but Alvis had learnt that ladies were better at keeping their enmities hidden.

“Of course,” he replied, “My apologies.” He talked to Prince Kurth every time he came to Barharra and the questions were always the same. Depending on who approached the topic first, one of them would ask whether the other had any news of Alvis’ mother. It had been so many years and Alvis was starting to believe they were too optimistic in even speaking of her. She had disappeared so entirely that even talking of her seemed useless. Alvis decided he’d let Prince Kurth ask this time. He was so used to being parentless by now it was probably the prince’s job to worry these days, if he even did still worry. There were probably larger matters to attend to.

“Why don’t you introduce me to your little brother Lord Alvis?” 

And of course there were necessaries to do as well.

“This is my little brother, Azel,” Alvis dutifully replied, “Azel, this is Prince Kurth. One day he’s going to rule all of Grandbell, just like I told you.”

Azel, who been merely watching beforehand, jumped at the sound of his name. On realising the prince was looking at him, he stammered:

“A..A pleasure to meet you your highness.”

Alvis smiled, he’d gone through introductions with his brother before he’d left. So far Azel was doing swimmingly.

“A pleasure to meet you too Azel,” said Prince Kurth. He offered the boy his hand which Azel shook a little awkwardly due to the size difference between their hands. Alvis thought this was a bold move for the prince. Who knew who could be watching them right now? If someone saw the prince shaking hands with the bastard of Velthomer (a title which he’d already heard someone mutter) then this would show the prince acknowledged Azel’s existence and had no issue with it. This meant if someone tried to find an issue with Azel being there, they would have to face Prince Kurth. It was a very advantageous move for Alvis and Azel but one Prince Kurth could come to regret.

The midday meal went as well as expected. There were many more introductions to be made and as they travelled about the room after the meal had finished, Alvis kept a tight grip on his brother’s hand. Azel was becoming very good at bowing and saying pleasantries and had charmed some of the noblewomen with his politeness and seemingly-adorable nature. For every compliment there was half a dozen disapproving murmurs and glances, however Alvis decided to remain unaffected by them. He acknowledged the gossips but then said nothing, as if such talk was far beneath him.

All matters considered, the afternoon went well, it was in fact the next two weeks Alvis had to concern himself with. The meetings would go as usual, he had his own agenda and many means of getting what he wanted through. It was the problem of getting Azel through this fortnight in one piece that worried him. A thought that plagued him to the moment he had to give his brother up to one of the maids at the breakfast table before he went to a meeting.

“Be brave,” he told him, “Use your head and everything should be fine.”

Azel nodded, clutching onto a book Alvis deemed durable enough to be taken outside. They had had a talk about which toys and books would survive the outdoors and they had come to the agreement that Azel was allowed to take one book out but perhaps it was best if he spent more time exploring and perhaps even playing with the other children, than reading. He needed to know what it was like. With a heavy heart, Alvis let his brother go and headed upstairs to what was inevitably going to be a day of tedious debate.

\-----

For the first few days it seemed Alvis had worried in vain. At the end of every day’s work he would go outside and find his brother calmly reading or sitting and watching the fish in one of the ornamental ponds in the castle grounds. There was a large courtyard where the children were allowed to play but not once had he seen his brother in there. Azel should at least try to play with the other children. Perhaps if he sat in the courtyard long enough, one would want to play with him. On the fourth day Alvis learnt that he shouldn’t have been so wishful. He left to search for his brother, choosing to pass through said courtyard to reach the grounds. Thank goodness he had. He had just entered the bright sunshine when he heard a very familiar cry of

“Please stop it!”

There was a group of boys at the far end of the courtyard and not the usual unruly servants either. Alvis could pick out the sons of the most disagreeable lords clustered around his little brother who seemed to be curled up, desperately trying to protect his book from harm as the boys pulled at his hair and kicked him in the shins. Alvis sprinted forwards but much to his surprise he wasn’t the first to arrive at the scene. Langobalt’s eldest son received a fist to the face and was sent sprawling across the cobble stones. A new fight began with the blue haired son of Lord Vylon fighting on behalf of Azel who was being helped out of the fray by Lord Ring’s remaining daughter. Alvis slowed his pace and adopted an icy persona.

“That is ENOUGH.” The boys leapt apart and turned. Considering the fact some of them were his own age if not older, Alvis seemed to have a surprisingly intimidating affect on them. It was either that or the sudden flare of flames Alvis had produced through the authoritative swing of his arm. On hearing his voice, Azel let out a cry but he seemed in too much pain to move very far. Alvis marched over to him just as Aideen of Jungby raised a healing stave above her head. Azel was staring at her in astonishment. He was probably more interested in her than the stave. He had been healed with a staff many times but it was likely he hadn’t met a girl before. He’d seen grown women but there weren’t any girls about Castle Velthomer, not any that he’d see on a regular basis anyway. Personally, Alvis didn’t see what was so fascinating about this particular girl but Azel couldn’t take his eyes off her. Time to correct that.

“Azel, are you alright?”

Fit and healthy again, Azel got up and ran straight into his brother’s arms. Alivs cradled him close in one arm and then fixed his searing gaze on the offenders.

“If I hear you’ve laid your hands on my brother again I’ll have you all for charcoal,” he said, his tone was icy but his glare burned, “I do not care who your fathers are. If they were better men they would surely have taught you not to pick on the weak and helpless. Do I make myself clear?” There was a mess of nods, bows and murmurs. The boys split in little groups to mull over their dangerous position. Lord Sigurd and Lady Aideen however stayed close by. Now the threat had gone away, Azel's gaze was back on the girl.

“Is she a princess Lord Brother?” he asked. Aideen laughed and Alvis merely smiled.

“She’s not a princess, she’s Lady Aideen of Jungby, Lord Ring’s daughter,” he corrected, “Also this is Lord Sigurd of Chalphy, he came and helped you too.” He turned to the aforementioned spectators, 

“My sincerest gratitude to the pair of you. I was evidently mistaken in thinking we were part of a civilised majority.”

“They were calling him a bastard your Lordship,” Sigurd said. Alvis thought it was rather amusing that someone his own age was addressing him so formally but he didn’t let it show.

“Yes, that does not surprise me,” Alvis replied. He was about to take his leave with his brother in tow when Aideen said

“He can play with us next time.” 

Alvis heard a small intake of breath from his left hand side.

“I’d like to play with Princess Aideen Lord Brother.”

“I’ll consider it.” With that Alvis decided they should depart.

\---

For all his aloofness, there was nothing Alvis could actually do for now to stop Azel going to play with Sigurd and Aideen. Azel was utterly convinced that the girl from Jungby was a princess and it had taken a sitting down with a map and a look in the royal portrait gallery for Alvis to finally convince him that evening that Aideen was not royalty. When they read together that evening he did understand why his brother had become so confused however. In the storybooks there were a lot of long blond haired princesses. Azel was however reading a lot fewer books with pictures these days so he was sure this would pass. Alvis also made sure to tell his brother that if he was really going to get hurt, it was fine to sacrifice the book. It should protect him, not the other way around. Not that anything of the sort should happen again.

It was hardly surprising however when Alvis discovered his brother wasn’t in the courtyard the next day. It was concerning though that he wasn’t in the gardens either. Alvis scaled the length and breadth of the castle grounds yet for every neatly trimmed hedge and ornate fountain there was no sign of his little brother. He ran back inside and demanded of the first servant he came across as to the whereabouts of his brother. She didn’t know but immediately fetched someone who might. Alvis had very little patience with the whining apologies presented to him and immediately headed off to the drawing room that was said to contain many young ladies who didn’t wish to be out in the spring sunshine. Alvis inwardly cursed himself for not thinking of that before. He had assumed because he had tried to dissuade Azel from following Aideen of Jungby around, he wouldn’t. Azel barely ever made his own choices and took his brother’s word as law. It was good that he was able to make his own choices but…did he have to go trailing after that girl?

Azel was in the drawing room. It was a light decorative room full of delicate cabinets, clustered armchairs and all the necessaries for a long lasting afternoon tea. Alvis criss-crossed through the room, minding flower-filled pieces of porcelain, tables that seemed barely able to support their own weight let alone the platters put upon them, and the occasional cloak or cape that been draped across an overly-stuffed armchair. It was very much a female place. The smell of flowers and perfume seemed to act as a repellent to the other gender and the delicate cups and saucers would seem absurd in the hands of Lords such as Langobalt and Vylon. Alvis could appreciate fine workmanship when he saw it however. Every single piece of porcelain could be a family heirloom in itself. An ordinary man’s fortune could be made if he stumbled upon one of the gold trimmed saucers.

Alvis ignored the pointed whispers as he crossed the room. At the far end the chairs had been cleared and a small tea party had been constructed on the floor using not so decadent crockery. Four children attended this party, one of which was his brother, though if you were unfamiliar with Aze,l at a glance at this tea party you would have believed you were looking at a group of only girls. Alvis hadn’t arrived here with many expectations but he certainly hadn’t predicted to find Azel in such a state. At least his mouth was not covered in icing like Reptor’s daughter, but his current attire was certainly more bizarre.

“Lord Brother, Princess Aideen and Princess Ethlin made me a princess too.” Azel’s voice was extremely nervous, as if he wasn’t sure whether this was a good thing or not. His tiara slipped slightly and Aideen straightened it back up again.

“He looks adorable, doesn’t he Lord Alvis?” she commented, using the coo that Alvis so detested. Alvis took another look at his brother. They had put him in a pink and white summer gown and matching white laced slippers. He was still wearing his leggings but Alvis had to wonder what they had done with his tunic. It was brand new, they better not have lost it.

“I have no issues with your keeping company with my brother,” he replied, “However I would prefer if you return his correct clothing to him and respect his choices if he does not wish to be made a doll. Azel, you can say no if you don’t wish to be dressed up like this.”

“I don’t mind Lord Brother,” Azel said, glancing at the floor. It was clear however he was simply being polite. He lacked all enthusiasm and his gaze was firmly on the floor. Alvis could feel the stares fixed upon him as he decided that it was best to withdraw.

“Well, he certainly cannot attend dinner attired as such. If you would kindly return his tunic and cape to him and we will be on our way.”

Azel seemed profoundly grateful to be back in their shared chambers. As soon as they had returned he went and climbed onto the cot he had been provided and curled up there as if wanting a nap. Alvis took off his cloak and hung it on the stand by the door. He didn’t blame his little brother for wanting to sleep and escape it all. This visit so far had been nothing but stressful. Every year those old men seemed to become more and more disagreeable. Not only that, but the problems he was facing with them seemed to grow even more serious. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he simply took a week off, took Azel to the coast or on a similar trip. He’d always wanted to see the sea and to take Azel somewhere where nobody would shout at him would undoubtedly be relaxing.

“Lord Brother?” Azel suddenly spoke, his voice timid and soft.

“You can call me by my name when we’re alone Azel,” Alvis replied, sitting down on his four poster and watching his brother sit up.

“Yes Alvis,” Azel said, still as quiet.

“What did you want to ask?” Alvis patted the bed beside him and Azel came and joined him. Alvis put an arm round him in case he was frightened. The last two days were undoubtedly traumatic for his little brother though in different ways perhaps. To be made a fool of by the same girl who had saved him the previous day... He must be confused at least.

“Do I have to play with other children?” Azel asked, “They don’t want to be my friend and they say mean things and laugh at me.”

“I thought you liked Lady Aideen of Jungby?” Alvis was fairly sure he did. Azel latched onto kindness like a pet to treats.

“Not when other girls are being mean there.”

“Well if you don’t want to talk to them, then don’t,” Alvis stated, it seemed the safest decision, Azel’s two days of attempted interaction had turned out disastrously. Azel didn’t have to have friends. Alvis didn’t and he was fine. Besides, it wasn’t as if Azel could see any potential companion very often. The court visits weren’t very frequent thank goodness and what was the point of having friends if you rarely communicated with them? Alvis had never felt inclined to try and find a friend. He had his brother and Azel had him. Did they even need friends?

“It might get easier when you get older,” he added, as Azel seemed rather sad still.

“Does Alvis have a friend?” Azel asked curiously.

“No, but I’ve got you, haven’t I?” Alvis replied. Azel smiled and cuddled his brother’s arm. 

Alvis was satisfied with this conclusion until something unexpected happened the next day. After dinner he and Azel had read some more of a book before resting peacefully, content that they had at least had each other. The following morning was perfectly normal. Alvis reminded his brother that it was only three days to his birthday and to look forward to that. They had dressed and were just about to go down to breakfast when there was a loud knock upon the door. Alvis told Azel to go and wash his hands ready for breakfast and went to answer it.

There was a small boy outside. He seemed only a little older than Azel however the difference in size and height was rather remarkable. He sported a shade of bright blue hair that Alvis had not seen on anyone else’s head in this court gathering. However the very slight family resemblance gave him away. The boy was finely dressed in heraldic colours which only confirmed Alvis’ suspicions. This was Lord Langobalt’s second son. He resembled his father and elder brother Danan, one of the bullies he had threatened to torch two days ago, even if it was just in the hairline. Langobalt had had two wives so the difference was to be expected. The fact he didn’t know this child’s name, was not.

“What is it?” he asked harshly. He didn’t need another one of Langobalt’s monsters to hurt his brother even more.  
The child bowed but stood his ground.

“Duke Alvis, I want to say sorry for my brother!” he exclaimed. Alvis raised an eyebrow at him. Well, this was unexpected.

“Go on.”

“Well…” The child seemed rather taken aback, but he was evidently bold to even come here. It didn’t take long for him to recover, “Well I know Danan won’t come and say sorry because he’s a mean bully and is bad as a pirate but I feel really bad that Azel was hurt by him! I wasn’t there because I hurt my knee but because he won’t I want to say sorry for him instead.”

“What’s your name?” 

Both Alvis and the child looked round. Azel had approached the door whilst they were talking and was now staring at the new arrival with wonder in his eyes.

“I’m Lex,” Lex stuck his hand out for Azel to shake. Azel looked up at Alvis for permission. Alvis nodded and the two children shook hands.

“Do you want to come and play with me when all the grown-ups are all busy today?” Lex asked excitedly, “I found a tree with a swing on it. I think it was Prince Kurth’s swing when he was little!”

That was how it started. Alvis knew he only had himself to blame. He had allowed Azel to go and play on the swing with Lex and from that moment onwards the two appeared inseparable. Azel would eat his breakfast as fast as he could just so he could go out and play with Lex. He was full of excitement when he informed his brother what they had got up to that day. Every detail of how Lex had shown him how to climb trees to get apples, or how he’d helped Lex realise big books were fun, was given to Alvis as he attempted to play with his brother in the evenings. Lex was brave and bold whilst Azel was timid yet sensible. They complimented each other and kept the other out of trouble be it through a timely escape or Azel dissuading Lex from doing something reckless in the first place. Not only that but Lex had given Azel the confidence to talk to Lady Aideen again and with Aideen came Sigurd. Azel seemed to be forming the first signs of a group of friends.

Alvis knew he should be happy about this however he took a great deal of pleasure when he heard Azel tell Lex at dinner one night that he could not play with anyone else in the evening because the evening was “me and Lord Brother time”. Azel’s birthday turned out to be an enjoyable affair for both of them. They had breakfast in their room whilst Azel opened all his presents, exclaiming in joy at every single one. Lastly Alvis presented him with the book he had commissioned. Azel opened it in speechless awe. Getting a book of his very own was always very exciting but never before had he received a book like this. He stared open mouthed at the leather bound cover, tracing the flowers stamped into the surface. His lips silently formed the title “The Tale of the Twelve Crusaders”

“It’s just for you,” Alvis prompted, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Azel did so and beamed when he found the message on the front cover beside the first illustration. 

“Alvis is the best ever,” he said, resting his head against his brother’s shoulder as he kept his eyes on the beautiful picture of sacred weapons on the first page. Alvis smiled back and turned the page for him. Well, he could cope with Azel having a few new companions if he was still the best ever. He left Azel to his book as he went off to meetings, safe in the knowledge that Azel would still be utterly engrossed in the literary finery when he came back. He wasn’t disappointed.


End file.
